


Move Over Angus

by Rochelle_Rochelle



Category: Elementary (TV)
Genre: F/M, Joanlock - Freeform, Smut, mantel fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-04-06
Updated: 2015-04-06
Packaged: 2018-03-21 14:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3696248
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rochelle_Rochelle/pseuds/Rochelle_Rochelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after The View from Olympus. Joanlock mantel smut. borderline mature/explicit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Move Over Angus

Joan came down the stairs in her jersey, her favorite green one she used as pajamas, and the pair of silky shorts she usually wore with it. She heard the clinking of glass and by the time she reached the bottom step she saw Sherlock carrying the crate of breakables he had removed from the living room in preparation for Agatha's visit.

"Morning, Watson," he set the crate down. "There's bagels downstairs if your interested. Got them earlier this morning."

Joan nodded distractedly, "Thanks." For a couple of days now, she had been intrigued as to how the mantel could have possibly come into play in Sherlock's recreational sexual activities to the point of having to clear off breakables. Joan walked up to the mantel and placed a hand on it and one hand on her waist. She knew it was more than likely a mistake to ask the question but she asked anyway.

"Sherlock?"

He was bent over retrieving articles from the crate. He looked over his shoulder at her, "Hmm?"

"Forgive my asking, I know its kind of personal ..."

Sherlock put down the items in his hand and turned to face her.

"But why ... how ... the mantel ... I mean how would you ..." Joan couldn't even phrase the question. She motioned between the crate and the mantel in a confused sort of way. A slight blush crept over her cheeks. She regretted asking, or more accurately attempting to ask, almost immediately. 

"Ah!" Sherlock gave her a condescending smile once he understood what she was getting at. "Quite a simple matter. I can show you if you'd like."

The look on his face let her know he was purposefully challenging her, thinking her sense of propriety and correctness would prevent her from accepting his dare. He radiated smugness as he bounced before her.

Irritated at that attitude of his, that attitude that said I know you better than you know yourself, she stepped up to the challenge. Joan looked him in the eye, "Yes. Show me." She said the words with strength and commitment even though on the inside she was running around in tiny circles, holding her head and yelling, 'no, no, no, Joan what are you doing.'

Sherlock was surprised at her response but he was not going to be the one to back down. "Alright, then." He went up to the mantel and moved Angus further down, away from where she stood, turning the head so it looked away towards the windows. Joan looked on perplexed. He moved towards her placing his hands near her waist, hovering as he waited for permission to continue. She gave him a small nod. He put both hands around her waist, stopping for a moment to give her time to change her mind. Joan kept her eyes locked on his face; she was certainly not going to back down. 

"Ready?" he asked as he tightened his grip around her. "Up you go." She was small and he was strong and before she knew it, he had hoisted her up in the air. Her hands jumped to his shoulders and she balanced herself as he set her down on the mantel. 

A surprised Joan looked down at him from her precarious perch on the ledge, his hands still holding her in place. She hid her surprise by being practical. "This isn't very stable. Seems a bit dangerous ..."

"Not really." He interrupted her. He also took a clinical tone, attempting to defuse the urges that were exploding like small bombs within him. "If you will permit me," he moved a little closer, putting his hand under one knee. His voice was suddenly a little softer, "Balance is easily achieved by placing ... your legs over my shoulders. Like so." He led her right leg there, draping it onto his shoulder; she put her left leg into the proper position without prompting.

"Oh, I see." Joan strove to keep her voice neutral, her breath under control. If he could do it so could she. She grabbed at the edge of the mantel a little tighter as Sherlock's hand moved onto her thigh. 

For his part, Sherlock found himself with his head between her legs trying to pretend it was not a big deal, that he wasn't suddenly and utterly sotted by his desire for her.

She could feel the soft puffs of his breath against her skin, his hands firm and strong, the slight caress of his thumbs. Joan knew she could end this right now by simply saying 'oh, thank you, I see,' moving her legs off his shoulders and jumping down, but found she did not want to.

Sherlock moved his head so that his cheek brushed her knee. Her eyes fluttered close at the sensation. In the best academic tone that he could muster, he explained, "A human being's inner thigh can be extremely sensitive. The erogenous area .... can extend..." Feeling the warmth radiating from her, her silken skin across his face, he found he could no longer keep up the pretense and placed a small lingering kiss a little ways up from her knee. 

Joan inhaled suddenly, the feel of his parted lips, his warm breath, his face firm against her skin made her shudder with pleasure. Sherlock stopped and looked up into her face thinking she wanted him to stop. He saw a desire there that matched his own. Her hand came up from the mantle ledge, found its way around his neck and let him know she wished him to continue. 

Emboldened, he returned to her inner thigh and gave free rein to the passion he'd been holding back. His open mouth kissed and bit and dragged his way upward towards her core. Joan squirmed and wriggled with the sheer pleasure of it all, her soft moans spurring him on. 

Sherlock reached the boundary of her short-shorts, nuzzling with his nose at the cloth's edge to gain access to what lay beneath. His tongue flicked at the short's leg opening, forcing a deep sound of ecstasy from her, her breath quickening. Sherlock invigorated by her moans suddenly moved his mouth upon her center and through the thin silken material that covered her most sensitive spot, bit and kissed and stroked with enough vigor and intensity to cause her legs to tighten around his head and pulse into him until she felt the orgasm explode. Sherlock kept his face between her legs reveling in the feel and sweet smell of her. Joan's hands gripped his hair, her body curving down around his head. He gently prodded at her once or twice more, happily extending her pleasure. 

As Joan slowly came back to herself, she whispered, "Help me down?" She leaned forward onto him as his hands caught her beneath her arms and slowly brought her down towards him. With arms around his neck, her head almost level with his as he held her, she looked into his eyes as she searched for his lips. They joined in a deep passionate kiss, her legs wrapped around his body, his hands held onto her bottom and her head, engulfed in each other.

Air became a necessity and they took the moment to make sure the other was alright; searching each other's face for confirmation before continuing. 

A light smile played on her lips as she saw the concern on his face. He found his voice, "We'll be okay..." It was a question and a statement.

"Yes." She kissed him lightly on the cheek. His head moved to her neck and sought comfort there. "Where is the sex blanket?" Joan whispered half teasingly.

He didn't bother chastising her on the use of the term. He moved his lips up to her ear. "My room."

Joan pulled his head away from her, "I have some things I learned in med school I'd like to show you." 

His eyes widened with excitement and she rewarded him with a beaming smile. Sherlock let her slip down off him. Joan grabbed at his hand and tugged in the direction of the stairs. A dazed half smile played across his face as he moved to join her.


End file.
